


Rapprochement

by enigmaticdr



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Shenanigans, F/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticdr/pseuds/enigmaticdr
Summary: Hannibal gives Bedelia a hickey and she is less than pleased; can he make it up to her?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is response to the tumblr prompt "forehead kiss". Just something short and fun and dirty to try and get rid of the writer's block. Set in Florence.

“Hannibal, come here.”

From the kitchen, the methodical sound of knife meeting cutting board ceases, and is replaced by the rhythmic sound of his polished dress shoes tapping mutely against the stone floor of their flat.

He rounds the corner from the bedroom into their ensuite bathroom, drying his hands on a forest green tea towel. She watches him approach from where she stands in front of the large brass-framed mirror.

He settles behind her, meeting her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. “What is it?”

She smooths her hands over the teal silk robe that flows down her body like water cascading over curvy, current-smoothed rocks. “Look.”

He pauses. “At what?”

She raises her arm, gestures absently with her fingers. “My neck.”

He wraps his fingers around the blond curls coiled on her shoulders and pulls the soft strands back, bunching them loosely in his fist at the base of her skull. 

Bedelia closes her eyes, tipping her head to the side, exposing the milky column of her throat.

His eyes map her skin in a careful caress.

“Oh,” he assesses, and brushes the pad of his thumb across the dark red, raspberry-sized hickey marring the creamy hollow where her neck gracefully arches to meet her chin.

“Mmm,” she acknowledges. “That was a very rude thing to do.”

Hannibal presses closer, the warmth from his body easily soaking into the silk of her robe and melting onto her skin like the expensive body butter he insisted on massaging into her skin after bathing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his mouth inches from her skin, warm breath raising the fine hairs on her nape. “It was completely unintentional,” he adds, offering her reflection a smile that is not at all as repentant as she would like.

“I had intended to wear my hair up tonight,” she tells him, refusing to let him off the hook. “Wearing it down will not complement the neckline of my gown. At all.” 

She looks to the side, at the beautiful bordeaux coloured dress he had purchased for her in Paris last week. It is spread lifelessly over the chair beside the tub, patiently waiting for her body to breathe life into its expensive design.

“You will look lovely,” he insists. “Just…” and he threads his fingers through the satiny blonde waves, arranging them so they are artfully tucked behind her ears and curled under her chin, obscuring the angry purple bruise. “Bellissima,” he concludes, dropping his palms to rub them softly up and down her biceps in a placating motion.

“No,” she says, untucking her hair and shaking her fingers through it, turning the carefully brushed waves into an untamed mess of curls. “You can forget about dinner. I am not a piece of territory you can mark.”

“Bedelia,” he says, more seriously, turning her around so she is facing him, leaning down to press his lips warmly to her forehead. “I am sorry. I will not do it again.”

She crosses her arms and glares at him, until he lowers his gaze in what resembles some approximation of true regret, properly chastised. 

She glances at the small silver clock on the boudoir beside her, and sighs. “It is still early. Our reservation is not for another two hours.”

He glances up, looks at her with a mixture of bemusement and hope.

“Plenty of time for you to make it up to me,” she tells him.

He grins. “Anything you want,” he agrees, and tosses the green tea towel onto the marble counter top to free his hands.

“Hmm,” she hums, feigning contemplation, and leans back against the counter.

He follows her body’s magnetic pull and presses his lips to her forehead again, kissing softly along her hairline.

“No…not there,” she tells him, tilting her neck to the side, avoiding his lips.

He changes trajectory, determined to please, his tongue sliding out to lick gently over the red blotch under her chin instead, carefully soothing the irritated skin and broken blood vessels.

“Not there...” she repeats, and pushes his face away from the crook of her neck. He stops, pulling back to watch her.  

Bedelia looks up at him, holding his inquisitive gaze as her hands reach between them to untie the sash of her robe, the two sides falling easily apart like curtains. Immediately, he lowers his head, kissing along her collarbone before taking one rosy nipple into his mouth.

She allows him to nuzzle her there a few moments; she has never been one to deny herself pleasure from one so willing to offer it.

He makes to switch breasts, bringing his hand up to palm the lonely one, but she grabs his shoulders and meets his gaze. “No,” she whispers, and gives him a kiss before turning away from him.

She takes the tea towel and spreads it across the edge of the countertop behind her.

She turns back around and takes his hands in hers. “Help me up,” she requests.

His large palms wrap around her waist and he lifts her to sit atop the bathroom counter, ass balanced on the edge, legs hanging over.

Already understanding her intentions, he crouches eagerly before her, shifting onto his knees. He curls his arms around her thighs and pushes her legs over his shoulders. She leans back on her elbows for balance, biting her lip in anticipation.

At the first touch of his tongue, her head falls back limply and thuds quietly against the mirror behind her.  

“Here?” he asks, with a grin.

“Yes,” she breathes, and reaches out to stroke her finger over the wetness on his lips. “Where it will only show on you.”

“I think I should anger you more often,” he teases, placing a kiss to the side of her thigh.

“Do not dare,” she replies, pushing her heel into his back and urging him to return to the task at hand. “As it is, I haven’t forgiven you quite yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Bedelia fans are the best I love you all


End file.
